Descent
by Blood.Stained.Fingers
Summary: Trying to win a war was hard work, but who says that Harry couldn't have fun doing it? For every kill Harry committed, Voldemort taught him a new spell. Although they were enemies, it didn't mean they couldn't make their lives more interesting by helping each other. The Dark Lord seemed to find some amusement in goading Harry...And that's how it started. Mad!Dark!Harry Poss HP/LV.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Descent **

**Prologue **

Harry decided that after a few years of war he might be slightly mad. Not quite Bellatrix or Voldemort mad… but somewhere along the spectrum of madness Harry certainly had earned his place.

Perhaps it was having Voldemort constantly chasing him, constantly in his mind that pushed him over the edge.

Though it was more likely to have been Bellatrix having killed Sirius, that had unhinged Harry a lot, the stabilising bond of having one adult loving him unconditionally, someone he could call his very own. Not a borrowed Mum from Ron or a borrowed brother.

Sirius was all his. Only his.

His Godfather.

Then _she_ took him away.

And she took Sirius's place in his thoughts, but in a dark way, murderous and sordid. He wanted her dead. He wanted her to feel the pain he felt.

He wanted to hurt her.

All the time.

It was a burning thought, always there squatting on his brain. It spurred his studies into darker territory, making him more ruthless and determined.

More willing to cut, to stab…to kill.

More willing to enjoy it.

More willing to laugh when he was fighting, teeth smeared with blood, with a broken nose and bruised knuckles, Malfoy on the floor looking up at him in fear.

Harry decided he liked that. He liked that an awful a lot.

It felt good to not be a victim for once, to be in control….to be cruel.

Maybe the man could sense the depravity in his mind, but the next time Harry duelled Voldemort he noticed he wasn't trying particularly hard.

It was the smirk, secretive and devilish. He looked beyond pleased at the fact that Harry used dark spells when fighting, that he would cut open a man's stomach without batting an eyelid.

For every kill Harry committed, the curses Voldemort sent to him were spoken clearly with pronounced wand movements, something Voldemort didn't need to do. For every kill Voldemort taught him a new spell.

…And their bond became stronger.

In an odd way it was a form of teaching him – not so Harry could defeat him, as if anyone wanted to live it was Voldemort, but he seemed to find some amusement in goading Harry.

And that's how it started.

**A/N- I don't know why I've started another one, I really don't. However, I am putting this out just to test the waters. If people want it, I'll continue, it'll be a bit like a drabble fic I think, with specific Harry/Voldemort moments. **

**All intense and stuff without any other things diluting it, like the plot and stuff – just interaction between the two. **

**If this takes off, it will be steadily getting darker Harry and of course Voldemort.**

**Possible slash – as I said, I'll see if people are interested and if Harry and Voldemort are too ;)**

**So, let me know in a review what you think and whether you want more.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**A/N – This chapter is dedicated to my broken beats earphones who have been with me through MANY hours of writing. Shame they **_**fucking broke!**_** Now, I'm only able to listen to music through one ear phone and its driving me fucking mental :( **

**Why do I not get new ones you ask? Cos I'm a broke student who can only afford cheap shit and one does not simply go back to mediocre sound after having beats. So, on that note this chapter is dedicated to Amanda2308 who supplied me with awesome headphones and possibly soon to be ruptured eardrums :)**

**Also, we have to start off with innocent Harry – everyone needs to begin somewhere!**

**Descent**

It had been rather innocent, or as innocent as war got, to begin with. They fought as well as teenagers (even if they were technically of age) could against fully grown wizards.

Of course in the end, they discovered that their weak spells were not enough and began to use slightly nastier ones here and there. Aim a cutting curse at death eater's legs or their arms so that they couldn't fight anymore. Well for that battle.

Never anything actually _that_ serious.

Nothing really life threatening.

Even though they were teenagers and to their own minds completely grown up, they left the actual _dirty_ work to the adults.

Though Harry (and Ginny) were a little more vicious, after both having had Voldemort in their minds, their sense of where to cut tended to be more along the lines of cutting stomachs, chests…groins if they were really angry.

However, sometimes Harry didn't calculate the risks well enough.

It had happened so suddenly, an error of judgment after Harry had become lost in the anger, the adrenaline and mostly the rising blood lust (from Voldemort) that accompanied the fight. A cutting curse too strong and in the wrong place.

There was a pause.

Blood.

It sprayed like a geyser from a tiny, deep wound and it spouted the red fluid violently. Harry didn't know how it missed him, how he remained spotless and unstained whilst the rest of the world became blood splattered.

The worst thing was that Harry had been too shocked to do a damn thing; he just stopped and watched the man sink slowly to his knees, eyes wide and disbelieving behind his death eater mask as his hand frantically pressed against his own weeping throat.

Harry himself had fallen in a similar manner in his shock, settling on his knees as he watched the man finally stop twitching, the sound of gurgling finally ceasing and the eyes stopped darting around.

Voldemort had found him amongst the crossfire of enemies and the seas of blood and innards that saturated the earth.

They were caught in the eye of the storm, where it was still and calm whilst the world around them spun and screamed, full of hellfire spinning in a damned circle of fury.

The hatred had dulled between them almost, settling into a mutual dislike but with an odd respect for one another. Their burning hatred couldn't last decades when they unintentionally shared their minds with one another on occasion. So they settled for a fragile respect. Respect for the fact he wouldn't die and respect for the fact that Voldemort was a powerful, if disgustingly cruel, wizard.

Voldemort hadn't smiled, nor gloated at the sight of the body but only put his hand on Harry's shoulder, long fingers curling possessively into Harry's flesh through his shirt. The bond between the two enemies that was neither platonic nor passionate, it was just there, but it fluttered at the physical connection.

Harry looked up at his enemy, eyes wide and pleading _I didn't mean to do it._ Voldemort didn't look understanding – far from it, he looked perversely delighted as he admired Harry's unintentional first kill. His eyes did not show any emotion at all, but there was something there akin to empathy, as though now Harry had killed, they shared something.

Voldemort had only put his hands under Harry's arms and pulled him to his feet – allowing him to steady himself. He was unnaturally close to Harry, crooning in parseltongue "_Harry, I'm so proud of you._"

Harry wanted to struggle and scream and hurt Voldemort, but those hands secured him tightly. Harry's eyes were glued on the blood that pooled underneath the still body. He looked back at Voldemort speechless and in shock.

There was nothing to be said between the pair as they regarded each other, threats and offers to join one another having long been forgotten. They were both too proud to change their minds now.

_I have to kill you._

_I cannot join you._

Their bond is strong. There is no doubt about that.

Harry could see what he could have been…what he could still be and wondered in a bizarre way if it may have been better than what he is now.

There was a quirk to Voldemort's lipless mouth as he regarded Harry, and his sharp red eyes showed a spark of knowledge of what Harry was thinking.

Voldemort had his wand pointing away from Harry, and he made no move to change that. He inclined his head ever so slightly, walking back into the fields if dust, blood and glory…and that's it, as though the interlude never occurred, the moment of mercy wiped of the slate and Harry is left with his first victim. He knows his friends will judge him, the order will, the media will…but not Voldemort.

He grasps his wand, carries on fighting and it is only later that he starts to rehash the memory over and over again in his mind.

**A/N – Well we have to start of somewhere, Harry has to be reasonably innocent for a while. He is after all in both fanfiction and canon a victim of circumstance. **

**There may be a couple more accidents/ actions due to anger but then the real violence begins…but still Harry is no longer a killing virgin, the horror!**

**Whilst I am here, SHAMLESS self-advertising but I have written a couple of Harry Potter one shots – Vampire (bit of Bellatrix/Harry but non-sexual) and Always (Snape bashing and a bit of character analysis if you're into that thing :P). So, if you like my writing enough (and I hope you guys do) please check them out and leave some reviews? They are rather lacking at the moment and I live for feedback :)**

**Review this as well, please?**


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